Foolish Games
by TheLostMaximoff
Summary: Set after Four Months Ago. Elle just wants to play games but Peter is looking for retribution. Both of them get a little more than they bargained for. EllexPeter.
1. Like

Foolish Games

By TheLostMaximoff

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I decided it was time to do some Elle/Peter interaction that took place in the present timeline. R/R if you think it works.

Elle thinks if nothing else good comes of these unauthorized visits she at least gets good use out of these new flannel pajamas she bought. Winters in New York are as equally cold as they are long. Elle decides she might as well be dressed appropriately if she's going to break the rules. She can't resist though. She knows he'll come back to this place sooner or later. The Company's made sure no one has recently rented Peter Petrelli's vacant apartment so that it's nice, shiny bait for him. Elle wouldn't understand the attraction. She hates her home now that Peter's gone because now more than ever she realizes it's also her prison. That's why she sneaks away some nights and comes to his apartment. She tells herself she's just being a good girl, a company girl, and doing surveillance. The truth is that she wants Peter to herself and always has since the moment she saw him.

"So pretty," whispers Elle as she looks at a picture of Peter and his brother, Nathan. They're both handsome but Peter has that extra special spark that sucks Elle in. She thinks maybe it's his eyes but she can't really say. It's everything. Elle sighs as she feels a pain inside her and tosses the picture on Peter's bed. There's not much for her to do here. She doesn't work well with electronic devices so watching TV is out. She's tried reading some of Peter's medical books but they're too boring. The only real thing she can do is wait for him. Elle hates waiting for things.

"This funny thing happened while I was in Ireland," says a disembodied voice. Elle jumps at the surprise, feeling her heart leap up into her throat as she squeaks.

"I fall madly in love with this girl and somehow her brother gets struck by lightning while indoors," explains Peter, "And this is on the same night another girl comes looking for me." Elle still can't see him but she knows he's here. Peter's finally come back to play with her again and she feels like the happiest girl in the world.

"It's a small world after all," sings Elle with a grin. She doesn't like this little game. Hide-and-seek is so boring because she always wins. People can't hide from Elle. She can tell where they are by the lightning that's living in them. At least that's the theory. Elle doesn't really know or care. She just knows she always wins at hide-and-seek.

"Do you really think this is a game?" asks Peter, "Ricky was like a brother to me."

"Sourpuss," pouts Elle as an arc of electricity snakes from her hand to connect with dead air that soon shimmers as Peter fades back into existence, "I kept this place nice and clean so you'd come back. Everything's a game, Petey."

"Not this time," assures Peter as he quickly gets back to his feet, whatever wounds he had now completely gone. He told Adam there was a personal matter he had to address. He put two and two together and realized Elle was the girl who had killed Caitlin's brother. He knew Elle would be here or some place of equal significance to him. He knows all the games she enjoys playing.

"You shouldn't have run away," says Elle as she shocks Peter again, "You ruined our games, Petey. I was having fun with you!" She's angry at him, angry at him for teasing her with the hope of having something good and then yanking that hope away from her. She wants him to suffer for it. Peter takes the lightning in stride. The bad part is that he can't use any of his other powers while he's got his healing factor switched on. Elle knows this and she suddenly moves to press against him and pin him to a wall.

"Better settle in, tiger," coos Elle as Peter tries to raise his hands to fight but she pins them to the wall with her own, "It's gonna be a long night." Elle hits Peter hard with a double shock, one from each hand, and smiles in delight as he screams. She hits him with another and as he screams she presses her mouth against his so she can taste his pain. She'll teach him not to leave her again. She'll teach him not to rip her heart out.

"Having fun?" asks Elle with a wicked grin as she watches Peter's body magically recover from his wounds. She's so mesmerized by it that her grip loosens slightly. Peter takes advantage of that and shifts into a different power. His grip becomes as tight as steel as he quickly reverses positions with Elle, slamming her up against the wall with enough force to make his point without injuring her.

"Caitlin swore she was gonna kill you," hisses Peter, "Maybe I'll do it for her." Elle doesn't like this game now. She liked it much better when Peter was a cuddly teddy bear with no teeth. She liked it better when his eyes weren't so cold and hard. She liked it better when looking at Peter wasn't like staring into a mirror.

"I hurt you, you hurt me," explains Elle, "It's all part of the game." She sees the anger in his eyes suddenly flare up into madness and one of his hands clamps around her throat. Elle's starting to get scared now, really scared. She knows he has a laundry list of abilities that he could easily use to kill her. One squeeze with his super strength could crush her windpipe and end their games forever before she even has the chance to hit him with a jolt of lightning. That would be her best way of dying. The worst would be if Peter went nuclear and burned her to a crisp or blew her into tiny Elle bits. Peter's thinking the same thing she is right now and he's desperately trying not to think about Ted Sprague and that's fine because the only thing he can think of now is Caitlin and how this girl in front of him took something away from the woman he still loves.

"Listen to me," says Peter coldly as he stares into Elle's eyes, "There's a new rule for this game. Never come near anyone I care about ever again. Do you understand?" He sees something now in Elle's eyes, sees something past the curtain that she uses to keep everyone else out. She's scared. She's not in control anymore and it scares the living hell out of her. Peter can feel her trembling and struggles to remind himself why he's here. He swears he can see a tear roll down her cheek.

"You win," whimpers Elle, "I don't wanna play anymore." Peter takes this as the only answer he'll get and lets her go. Elle crumples into the corner, hugging herself and crying. Somehow, she broke her new toy. She was angry at Peter but Peter was angrier at her. Everyone always leaves her. All the things she loves get broken because of her and her stupid abilities. Elle enjoys inflicting pain on people because for one brief moment she gets to stop the hurting and everyone else gets to feel what it's like to suffer.

"Just go away!" snaps Elle as Peter stands there watching her cry, "I said you won. Just go away!" Peter stands there equally as dumbfounded as he is wary. He's seen firsthand how Elle manipulates people with her childlike behavior in order to get what she wants. He knows she's a master at playing games and making all the right moves. Yet Peter can't fully believe that the little girl crying in the corner in front of him is the same giggling sadist who used to playfully zap him at every possible opportunity. Elle sobs so much she starts hiccupping and that only makes her cry more. Peter stands there and watches before tentatively kneeling down and reaching out his hand to gently stroke her hair. He came here tonight with vengeance and retribution on his mind but Peter Petrelli knows he's not that man. He forgot that Elle is like a child and, if watching Nathan raise his boys has taught him anything, Peter understands that sometimes children just don't know any better. You have to teach them the right way to do things and you can't teach it to them with violence.

"I'm sorry," says Elle in between hiccups, "I just . . . everybody leaves and . . . and then you and . . . I miss you." She wants to tell him more. She wants to tell him about the butterflies and the tingly feeling and how she can't stop thinking about him and hurting when she does so. She thinks maybe, just maybe, if she keeps on babbling he might just stay this time.

"I'm sorry too," whispers Peter as he keeps running his fingers through her hair. His touch makes her feel warm and fuzzy. She likes not having to play games or worry about who's causing the pain this time. She likes just being here with Peter and feeling that tingly, electric touch of his that lights her up with happiness.

"Life's not a game, Elle," says Peter sternly.

"But it could be," whispers Elle as she suddenly looks up at him. She wants to see her broken toy freshly repaired and ready to play with but for the first time when she looks at Peter she doesn't even see a toy. She just sees a man, a very handsome and nice man with very sad eyes. No more toys, no more games, and no more pain. She has to take this chance. Elle kisses Peter, kisses him with a kiss that just says "I love you". It's not the playful kiss of a child, the seductive kiss of a vixen, or the angry kiss of a woman scorned. It's just a nice, soft, gentle kiss that Peter returns and Elle finds herself melting into.

"Peter," says Elle in a voice that fits her age more than her usual tone, "Peter, I think I . . ." He presses a finger to her lips and suddenly she forgets the rest of her sentence.

"People aren't toys, Elle," says Peter as he moves to leave, "You can't break them and expect something to magically fix them." Elle frowns and feels herself slipping back into childishness. It's not fair. It's so tragically and horribly unfair.

"Can we play again some time?" she asks hopefully as she trails after Peter like a lost puppy while he opens the window.

"I can't love you, Elle," explains Peter, "Not right now after what you did." She feels like crying again. He's the only thing she's wanted in a long time and now she understands completely that she may never be able to have him.

"What about . . . later?" asks Elle hopefully. Peter looks at her and tries to figure out if they're just playing another game but there's no deception in her eyes. It's just a question asked by a lonely girl in pain who wants someone to believe in.

"Maybe some day," admits Peter, "You have to learn new games though. No more killing or hurting people, Elle."

"I can try," whispers Elle as Peter climbs out onto the ledge.

"Later, alligator," says Peter as he turns towards her and then falls off the ledge. Elle smiles in wonder as Peter falls up instead of down, flying off into the night.

"After while, crocodile," finishes Elle as she closes the window, "Thanks for playing with me." She looks around at the mess they made of Peter's apartment. She decides she'll clean it up tomorrow morning before she leaves. With a very large yawn, Elle decides to go to bed. She snuggles up under the covers of Peter's bed and clutches the photo of him to her chest. As her eyes start to close, Elle begins to imagine all the fun new games she and Peter will play when he finally comes back to her.


	2. Love

Foolish Games (Part Two)

By TheLostMaximoff

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Since everyone liked this fic so much I decided to add an extra part to it. R/R if you like surprises.

Every day, Elle wakes up and feels like punching something. She supposes it's better than waking up feeling like electrocuting someone. Progress is measured in steps and the road to recovery is a long, strenuous one. Elle thinks she's moving in the right direction though. She finally told her father exactly what he could do with his tests and his assignments. She ran away from The Company after getting everything in order to create a new life and then frying the Hartsdale facility's entire power grid. It was satisfying in a way, liberating even. Then, of course, the honeymoon was over and Elle had to learn how to be normal. That desire finally brought her here to Toledo, a city that resides in one of the very counties she blacked out some sixteen plus years ago. It's being normal that also makes Elle want to punch something. Normal is terribly overrated.

"Thank you for shopping at Best Buy," mumbles Elle as she puts the items in a bag and hands it to the nameless patron on the other side of the counter. They're all the same to her. Their faces blend into an indistinguishable mass of mediocrity. Elle hates her new job but when you run away from home after telling your evil father to screw off there's really no chance he'll still kick you a big, fat monthly allowance to take care of all your needs. The rent for Elle's new apartment won't pay itself, something that greatly vexes her.

"Find everything okay?" asks Elle in a bored tone as the next peon in line steps up to the counter.

"Yeah," replies a hauntingly familiar voice, "I think I found what I wanted." Elle looks into the face of the man across from her and feels that prickly, tingly feeling on her skin.

"That really you, Elle?" asks Peter Petrelli.

"Wrong girl," replies Elle as she taps her nametag, "I don't know anyone by that name." Her heart is racing now. She can remember years ago how she kissed him and it was the first time she felt alive. She doesn't know whether she should be excited or afraid. The Company has sent people after her before but she's made it very clear that she won't be coming back. Is Peter the next person she has to send back to Hartsdale in a body bag?

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" asks Peter. He gives her that look, that look that she remembers giving him a few times. She's waited forever for him, waited until her heart turned cold and dead. She's not a helpless damsel or a beautiful princess that needs rescuing by the gallant Sir Peter. Those days are gone and that person, that childish sadist who delighted in pain, is gone with them. At least that's what Elle hopes.

"Fine," mutters Elle, grateful at least that Peter's given her a break from boring herself to death standing there ringing up customers all day. She closes up her register and grabs Peter's arm, leading him to the back where they can get some privacy. She journeys with him to the depths of the stock room, farther than any mere mortal would dare to venture.

"So, where've you been these past two years?" asks Peter lamely, his question echoing off the walls despite its low volume. Elle can't believe he's this stupid. She had always thought Peter was naïve, perhaps a little too oblivious at times, but his question reaches new heights of idiocy. Elle looks at him, refusing to answer his question. Peter really has no clue what he did to her. Hell, _she_ doesn't have a clue what he did to her. Elle can't decide if she's mad at Peter for making her love him in the first place or for carelessly taking a chunk of her heart with him when he left and forgetting to return it to her.

"It's called 'under the radar', Peter," says Elle in an annoyed tone, "It's what people do when they run away from their evil fathers. By the way, do I really have to remind you to use this name instead of my real one?" She taps her nametag again, hoping that Peter will get the point this time. She's already dismissed the thoughts of Peter being sent here to capture her. He's not sneaky enough for something like that and he would've already made a move by now if that were the case.

"Veronica?" asks Peter, "Why did you . . .?"

"I like the name, okay?" snaps Elle, her irritation growing more visible, "I think it's pretty." She's been working hard on control. She's been working hard to suppress her normal instincts. She tries not to take pleasure in pain and she tries not to play games. She tries to be normal but she hates it because normal is boring.

"I've spent the last year trying to find you," explains Peter. Elle doesn't know whether to kiss him, strangle him, or do both. She really, really wants to do both and she stifles that urge. Pleasure and pain must now exist separate from one another instead of joined together as they previously were in her mind.

"Maybe I didn't want to be found," suggests Elle, "by you or anyone else." She can't help playing games. She's tried but it's so engrained into her that she can't help it.

"Can we maybe have a real conversation?" asks Peter, "You know, really talk like two . . ."

"I _am_ an adult," states Elle, "Look, I can't do this now and my shift isn't over until tonight. Come by my apartment after that and we'll have coffee or booze or whatever. Just . . . leave me alone right now." She pulls a pen out of her pocket and rips a tag off one of the boxes to use as paper. Elle scribbles down an address and hands it to Peter before turning and walking away.

XXXXX

Before running away from home, Elle managed to divert a large chunk of The Company's money to her own account. That money had allowed her to furnish her new apartment and keep paying her rent on time until she found a job. She used cash always. She knew her father would be looking for her so she wasn't going to leave a paper trail. It's not that she really minds when The Company comes after her. She hasn't zapped anyone in months much less electrocuted them to death. She relishes the opportunity to use her abilities because they're like a drug for her and right now she wouldn't mind taking a little spill off the wagon.

"Hey," says Elle as she opens the door. She's wearing the same pajamas she was wearing the night Peter confronted her in his apartment. She's through dressing to impress. It never really got her far anyway.

"Hey," replies Peter as Elle turns away and sits down at the table in her kitchen. He takes this as an invitation to do the same. He doesn't really know what to expect. Peter's tried to forget Elle but every time he thinks he's finally let her go something will remind him. Now he's stopped trying to forget at all. He's spent the last year searching for her and every night he sees her face when he closes his eyes. Peter thinks maybe he's going insane but the truth is that he feels guilty. He led Elle on, used her and then left her at the first convenient opportunity. He forgot that Elle was still a human being and Peter knows he's not the only one to make that mistake.

"How do you want it?" asks Elle as she gestures to the coffee.

"Black's fine," assures Peter. Elle hands him a cup and then takes her own over to the table along with a bottle of something Peter suspects to be Jack Daniel's.

"So," says Elle as she takes a sip, "A year, huh?" She makes a face and then proceeds to open up the bottle of Jack.

"Is that what I think it is?" asks Peter skeptically, "I mean is it really safe for you to . . .?"

"Stimulant plus depressant makes for a happy Elle," assures Elle as she pours a little of the whiskey into her coffee and then takes another sip, smiling at the taste, "I'm not a child, Peter. You and everyone else can keep treating me like one but I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Is this how things are gonna be between us from now on?" asks Peter.

"Who said you were staying?" asks Elle in return, "You never do." She hopes that hurts him. She's spent months pining for him, hoping against all signs to the contrary that he would return for her, return _to_ her. After a while, that hope turned to bitterness and anger as is usually the case with such things. Then, the most curious of all curious things began to happen. Elle's depression and anger turned into strength and resolve. She turned her back on her only home and ran. She still doesn't have a clue where she's running to but she runs all the same. She figures that's all that really counts.

"I'd like to stay this time," admits Peter, "I spent a year looking for you, Elle. I did it because I want to apologize."

"Oh well that'll just make everything peachy again," says Elle sarcastically as she takes another sip of her coffee, "Just admit what we both know, Peter. You never really loved me."

"Oh and you were so honest?" asks Peter in response, "I was your toy, Elle. It's not like you really, genuinely loved me either."

"I didn't know how to," admits Elle, "You _do_, Peter, and that's what hurts. You used me and worst of all . . . you made me actually think you cared."

"I do care," explains Peter, "I wouldn't have tried so hard to find you if I didn't care about you." Elle doesn't want to hear this. She spent two years trying to forget Peter Petrelli. She doesn't want to hear this. She's moving on and trying to be normal. She's trying to fix herself and now Peter's here wanting things to go back to the way they were. They can't and even if they can she won't let them.

"Don't say that unless you mean it," warns Elle, "I haven't zapped anyone in months and it's been even longer since I killed somebody. Last time we met, I promised _you_ I'd try not to do that anymore. Don't make me break that promise."

"You did this for me?" asks Peter in surprise.

"I'd do anything for you, you ass," says Elle matter-of-factly. Peter doesn't exactly know how to respond to this. He's used to Elle manipulating emotions and playing games. What he's _not_ used to is Elle being honest.

"I'm sorry," apologizes Peter, "I care about you, Elle. I've tried to run away from it but I can't. I don't think I even want to anymore."

"I don't wanna hear this," says Elle with a sigh, "I just . . . God you make me so crazy. Do you even know that? Do you know how crazy you make me feel, Peter? I mean look at me. I spend my days wearing that disgustingly cheerful blue shirt and repeating 'Thank you for shopping at Best Buy'. I know more about digital cameras and stereo equipment than I ever wanted to and I have to fight the constant urge to shock the hell out of every customer that I encounter. Every night, I come home and spend most of it scared out of my mind that Dad will come find me and drag me back to New York and worst of all I actually think I might like that because Hartsdale is closer to you. I'm crazy, Peter, a crazy insane train wreck and I'll only get worse if you stay with me."

"Just shut up a sec," whispers Peter as he suddenly closes the gap between them and kisses her. Elle feels herself losing control. She's backsliding and it feels so deliciously and deliriously good. She kisses Peter back hungrily, both of them standing up but neither breaking contact. Elle feels her legs move to her bedroom but she refuses to pry her mouth away from Peter's. Both of them are stumbling now, bumping into walls, tables, and whatever else happens to be in their way. Neither of them care at this point.

"I'll leave if you really want me to," whispers Peter.

"Nobody likes a tease," breathes Elle as she leans back on her bed, pulling Peter down with her. His hands start roaming as their mouths meet again. Elle is vaguely aware of Peter unbuttoning her top. The rest of the night is a blur full of screams, moans, and enough lightning to black out _five_ counties in Ohio. Elle never felt so alive in all her life.

XXXXX

Elle lazily opens her eyes and makes a purring noise as she stretches her weary limbs. She feels a warm feeling in her stomach as if she's found something inside her she was previously missing.

"God you're beautiful," says Peter. Elle feels the heat in her cheeks and rolls over to bury her face in a pillow so Peter can't see her blush. She feels happy, the warm and peaceful kind of happy that has eluded her for almost all of her life. It scares her a little how happy she can be when she lets herself.

"I don't want this to be a thing," explains Elle, "I mean . . . I don't wanna keep score about who hurt who or who doesn't love who enough. I love you, Peter. I like it and I wanna keep feeling it."

"I love you too, Elle," whispers Peter, "No more games." Elle nods her agreement and snuggles closer to him. She's tired of playing around and acting like a child. For the first time in her life, Elle feels incredibly and undeniably happy.

"I have to go to work soon," says Elle as she looks at her clock, "Will you be here when I get back?"

"Always," assures Peter, "We're going to have to have a talk about that bottle of Jack though."

"You never let me have any fun," teases Elle with a grin as she gets out of bed and heads for the shower. For the first time in forever, she doesn't feel like punching something or electrocuting someone.


End file.
